Cluster of Clouds
by Julian Weathertop
Summary: Corporations struggle to become the rulers of a new garden planet, while a terrorist group has an agenda of their own and dares to use forbidden weapons to further their cause.
1. Prologue

**Alpha Colony**

**Planet Murakumo **

**Bordino Sector**

**0215 01MAY2184**

A steady, soaking rain fell on the colony as it did every night. A day's travel to the north began the Great Desert, a barren expanse covering the majority of the continent. An equal distance south the rain fell nearly all twenty-five hours of Murakumo's day in the swampy polar region. The narrow band between was the location of the Alpha Colony, called New Canaan by the locals. Hot, sweltering days were the norm here, followed by warm rainy nights. If it did not make a pleasant climate, at least it was a tolerable one.

Three hooded figures moved through the cover of darkness, knowing any traces of their passage would be washed away by daylight. Quickly and surely they approached a fence; then guided by a dimmed flashlight located the gate. A posted sign was briefly illuminated:

**CAUTION**

**Water Treatment Facility**

**Authorized Personnel Only**

One figure produced a pair of cutters and neatly severed the chain holding the gate closed. Moving to the single building within the enclosure they breached the door with equal ease. Once securely inside the filter was removed, allowing the light to show the interior. Pipes and tanks filled the large area in twisting, colorful chaos.

The leader of the group took a quick look around then pointed to a large storage tank. "Yellow number three, supply for the cattle barns. Let's go."

As the three began to open the tank the first member who had opened the gate and door spoke, "I'm still not so sure about this."

The leader answered, "What's not to be sure of?"

"We are taking an awful risk here. People could die."

"Everything is under control," the leader said sternly. "This is one of the reasons you were selected to come with, to assure the nay-sayers there were no fuck ups. The live agent will only reach the animals; they will show signs of sickness long before any workers would be exposed. When this facility is tested inert agent will be found near the potable supply. It will look like someone tried to affect both the people and the animals but failed. There will be nothing to trace back to us" He looked to the third figure that had been silent so far. "Give me the live agent."

The silent one produced two small vacuum-sealed containers. He looked quizzically at one then to the other. Tentatively he handed one to the leader but snatched it back as the leader was about to take it offering the second in its stead. He then began to alternate holding them out, as a larger child would torment a smaller in a game of keep-away, grinning wickedly at the first member of the group. "See!" the first shouted, "This is a bad idea! Too many are taking it lightly!"

"Cut the shit!" the leader ordered. Sullenly the third figure handed one canister over.

"Are you sure that is the right one now?" the first asked with a trace of panic.

"Why don't you drink it?" He snarled. "It's the right one, ya little prick."

"You and your group would like to see a nice body count wouldn't you?" A shrug was the only reply.

"We've been over this!" the leader scolded the other two. "We need to make the ICC take notice of this world. A 'failed' bio-incident will do just that."

"A 'successful' one would do it better and faster." The third mumbled loud enough to be heard.

"Does it really matter," the first said. "The first sign of a bio-weapon will cause the ICC to go ballistic. They will send in Marines here, take over and shut everything down."

The leader looked at him and nodded. "That's true"

"How will that benefit us? To have an occupation force brought in?"

"It will be the perfect benefit. They will come here, serve our purpose then go away." The leader smiled, "The best way to get rid of your enemies is to have them kill each other." He dropped the open container into the tank.


	2. Chapter 1 In the Field

**Marine Corps Space-Air-Ground Combat Center (MCSAGCC)**

**29 Palms California, United Americas**

**1527 14JUN2184**

A sapphire blue sky looked down on a barren landscape colored in shades of tan. The dry, gusty wind gave no relief from the afternoon sun. Several dust devils could be seen twirling in the wide valley. All native creatures instinctively took refuge from the baking heat, which now soared to over 113 degrees. Other creatures however chose to remain active. Four Armored Personnel Carriers, scouts for an armored battalion, moved across the desert landscape. They approached a barrier minefield looking for signs of the force which put it there. The scout commander in the lead vehicle keyed the radio to report to his commander. The mines were obviously placed in a hurry and there was no sign of their retreating opponents. His troops would be able to create a path in a matter of minutes. Unknown to him, he was being watched.

Several miles distant sat a ridge, clumps of brush scattered at the crest. The scout commander had scanned the hillside looking for observers but gave the crest only a cursory look, as anyone there would have been silhouetted against the sky. A well-camouflaged tarp had been placed over a shallow depression along side the brush, protecting two marines from the intense sun while they watched the valley below. Advanced optics allowed them a clear view of their opponents. As they expected, the infantry dismounted from their armored vehicles and prepared to breach the minefield. Unfortunately for the infantry, they were walking into a trap that the two marines now sprung.

"We have them LT," said Corporal 'Tiger' Mifune, the wiry second squad leader.

Lieutenant Felica Keouakuahu'ula, flashed a grin back to her squad leader. At twenty-eight, she was somewhat older than average for a First Lieutenant having begun her career as enlisted before making the jump to officer. A decorated veteran, she was the Platoon Leader for the highly unusual unit designated Reconnaissance and Tactical Survey platoon, one of only three such platoons in the entire Corps. Nominally attached to Delta Company, 3rd Recon Battalion the platoon would usually be assigned and report directly to the local commander. Today they were the eyes for Lieutenant Colonel Anderson, Commanding Officer of the 4th Marine Regiment.

"Call the artillery please Corporal Mifune, preregistered mission," she consulted her overlay, "Bravo three."

"Aye aye ma'am." The Corporal picked up the handset but before he could send a message their radios blurted out an announcement.

_INCOMING, INCOMING_

_ROUNDS IMPACTING_

_SUCESSFUL TAC-NUKE STRIKE_

The two marines looked at each other and spoke simultaneously, "Oh shit."

They looked back towards their own APC, which had been concealed in a depression since last evening. The marker strobe on the top surface flashed red marking 'kill.' The side hatch slammed open and out stormed the Platoon Sergeant, Staff Sergeant Lutellis Tucker. Even from a distance they could see that the husky marine's chocolate complexion was turning a shade of purple. "No way! NO FUCKING WAY!" he roared. "Lieutenant Keo I'm calling bullshit and waving the flag on this one! There is no fucking way in hell they could have known this fucking vehicle was here, not the way we crept in last night! And I know for goddammed-MOTHERfucking sure they could not have seen it without a satellite."

Keo slid back out from under the tarp. "At ease Staff-Sergeant." Barked the Lieutenant.

"Sorry ma'am, but you know we're being screwed. We put a lot of work into setting up this OP and we get hit for no reason.."

"I know Mojo," she said using Tucker's informal call sign, "let me see the status board." She took the intell unit the Tucker held out and glared at the display. Wiping some stray hair out of her eyes, she read the data indicating that her platoon was now so much radioactive vapor blowing across the desert. "I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation why OPFOR decided to do a recon by fire. Exactly on our position. With a nuke." Keo's teeth were gritted tight by the end.

Cpl. Mifune emerged from the hide. At 5'4' the Japanese-American stood two inches taller than his Lieutenant but was still nearly a foot shorter than the platoon sergeant. He carried the portable radio with him. "Ma'am, it's Blackhorse calling for Kilroy," he said indicating their headquarters was calling the recon marines.

"For the love of.." she began, finishing with a frustrated sigh. The Lieutenant traded the intell unit for the radio and replied, "Blackhorse this is Kilroy, send traffic, over."

"Kilroy, Blackhorse has message for Kilroy six, over." The command wanted to speak to the recon command.

"This is six actual, over" Keo confirmed that she was personally taking the message.

"Status board shows you have taken 100 casualties, break. Blackhorse six actual is calling endex for your unit, break. Account for personnel and equipment then report to six actual at your earliest convenience how copy? Over." The training was over for the recon platoon and the force commander wanted to see them ASAP.

"Solid copy Blackhorse. Will be enroute to MAGTF in ten mikes. Kilroy out." She looked at her senior NCO who appeared to be ready to break into another tirade. "Well it sounds like the Colonel wants to speak to us," she cut him off before he could begin. "Maybe he will explain where that nuke came from. Interesting how quickly they called after the hit."

"Yes Ma'am it sure is." Tucker's restraint was visible.

"Call everyone in Mojo, we'll have a powwow by the APC in three mikes."

"Aye, aye ma'am." Tucker turned to Mifune. "You heard the lady, make it so. I'll get Khan and his bunch of misfits rounded up."

As the two NCOs hurried off to carry out her order she walked to the strip of shade along the APC. She took the moment to remove her helmet allowing the wind to cool the sweat that had built up. A few strands of black hair escaped and flew free, but not enough to warrant adjusting the bun she wore it in. What she really felt like doing was peeling off the armor and letting the wind at the sweat that covered her body. Instead she settled for taking a drink from her canteen.

Soon the group gathered around; taking the cue from their leader they removed their helmets and drank their tepid water. Keo looked over the dirty faces of the men and women who had been in the field for a week now. Frustration was apparent along with cautious curiosity of what was going to happen. "Do we have everyone?" she asked Tucker.

He well knew that the Lieutenant had already done a mental roll call. "Squad leaders?" He asked simply, though he too already knew the answer. After receiving three thumbs-ups he reported back. "All accounted for, Lothar is in the vehicle monitoring the radio. Her squad leader can fill her in." He looked at Corporal Khan who nodded.

"OK, here's the scoop. First, we are all dead." She was interrupted by a chorus of boos and catcalls. "The enemy dropped a nuke on us." A louder chorus punctuated with profanity followed.

A swarthy dark haired marine spoke up above the rest, "A fuckin' nuke LT? How fuckin' lame."

One of the largest marines in the unit, a giant man tattooed with spiders and webs, holding a M56 spoke up, "What was the matter LT? Were we doing our jobs too good again?"

She looked to her smart gunner giving him a 'could be' expression then continued. "Second, since this was a very lucky hit and interestingly timed, I am guessing it was rather specifically arranged. Were I a betting woman I would put money that a mission is coming down the pipe."

"So what does that mean to us now?" the swarthy marine asked.

"I'm glad you asked PFC Castillian. We will make sure we are ready for a mission. When we get back to cantonment I want weapons cleaned and secured in the armory. The APC needs a full LTI, unit gear maintained and packed for embarkation. Pack yourselves for rapid deployment; we should be fully ready for sixty minute alert duty." Groans came from the assembled marines; one woman slapped Castillian on the back of the head. "I would like all of that done by 1900."

"1900 LT?" Mifune asked, "That's going to take some jumping to meet."

"Very well, 2100 then?" A smile played around the corners of her mouth. "I had been thinking we might get the chance for liberty call and go to mainside for a beer, but if you'd rather work…"

"BEER!" the marines shouted in unison.

She let the smile come out, "All right, I'll see what I can do. Staff Sergeant Tucker and I will go to MAGTF and see what the Colonel wants to talk about. I'll mention your hard work out here and see if he will cut us some slack."

"At least it will get us out of the heat." Tucker told the marines. He wiped the sweat on his bare scalp and running down his face. "You would think after four hundred and seventy-two years the Marine Corps would have developed some goddam air-conditioned armor." He looked at the waiting marines, "OK people, the LT has given the word and that beer is not going to come to us. My throat is really fucking parched so you all better get moving; you know what I get like when I miss out on my comforts. Squad leaders load your people, we're going back to camp."


	3. Chapter 2 Camp Wilson

**Camp Wilson**

**Marine Corps Space-Air-Ground Combat Center (MCSAGCC)**

**29 Palms California, United Americas**

**1705 14JUN2184**

Camp Wilson has been the base for units conducting training on the vast ranges of 29 Palms for over two centuries. The Combined Arms Exercises, known as CAX, are conducted year-round by active duty and reserves, keeping Camp Wilson in near constant use. Uncounted numbers of marines along with co-training navy, army, aerospace forces and allies have called this collection of temporary buildings and tents home. Through the years the facilities have been updated but would still be described as primitive; a twentieth century marine would have no problem recognizing the camp and getting around in it.

The M-577 APC moved at a walking pace to avoid raising dust as it arrived at the Tactical Operations Center of the Marine Air-Ground Task Force. Keo and Tucker disembarked and sent the platoon onwards to put away the vehicle and perform the maintenance necessary after a field exercise. Felicia smiled inwardly as she returned the salutes of the TOC guards; Lieutenant Colonel Anderson always ran a tight headquarters, acting as if it was in a hostile zone. Guards were always posted and she knew inside all of the staff would be in combat armor. If they were not actually wearing helmets and full battle gear, they would be within arms reach of their rifles. The interior would be air-conditioned but that was for the optimum functioning of the electronics used to run a marine regiment on the 22nd Century battlefield, not for the comfort of the operators. In her opinion it was unfortunate that many officers, especially newer ones, did not take training as seriously and were more relaxed in 'rear' areas.

Stepping inside it took a moment for their eyes to adjust from the harsh desert sun to the dim interior of the TOC. During those seconds, their ears took in the sounds of a busy headquarters. Staff officers looking over status boards, holding quiet discussions about how the operation was proceeding verses how it had been expected to proceed, and what changes would have to be made to events that had not yet occurred. NCOs issued updates to the boards the officers were using to keep the most up to date information available. Also, they gave orders to runners who would track down everything from missing reports to what time chow trays can be picked up for those to busy to leave to eat. Behind all of that were the sounds of commo operators manning the many radios and computers passing and receiving information from the combat and support units in the field. The biggest difference between this exercise and one that actually involved combat was the level of chaos; it would be even more hectic were the Task Force actually involved in combat.

The voice of the Sergeant Major boomed over all other sounds, "ATTENTION ON DECK!"

Lt. Keo jumped despite herself as everyone stood to attention, the only sounds now coming from the radio speakers. She looked to the barrel-chested senior NCO of the regiment. "Sergeant Major please, carry on, it is not necessary to stop for me." Sergeant-Major Ramierez made eye contact to acknowledge her while at the same time encompassing everyone else in the area. His slightest nod released all, from the greenest private to the Lt. Colonel himself, from their self-imposed paralysis.

"Felicia," Lt. Colonel Anderson's voice was the first to be heard, "Staff Sergeant Tucker, so good of you to come so quickly. Come on over to my desk, I have some cold things to drink, unfortunately no beer. Some fool made this a dry camp until the exercise is complete." He laughed knowing it was his own order that did so. The commander of the 4th Marine Regiment fit the description of a stereotypical Mid-Western farmer. Over six-foot and solidly built he had light hair and a fair complexion inherited from his Scandinavian ancestors. A reserved man by nature, growing up on a farm taught him how to endure nearly any hardship. He was widely known for never asking of his marines that which he would not do himself, therefore he and his staff were battle ready, wearing the same body armor as the recon marines. A black leather glove covered his left hand. It was an open secret that he lost most of his arm during a conflict several years ago. He now had a cybernetic replacement that was of questionable legality. The glove and his uniform concealed the metallic arm, making everyone including the Corps itself blind to his new limb.

The four marines filed into Anderson's office. A small room just off the main, it already contained a desk, some chairs, filing cabinets, a little used cot and a wall sized data display showing the status of all units on the CAX. The Lieutenant Colonel's gear was neatly arranged but the rest of the area was a chaotic mess of papers and data cards. It took some rearranging to find a place for everyone to sit.

Ramirez spoke first, "Glad to see you weathered the nuke pretty well."

"Yeah," Tucker replied, "I mean that was a serious What-the-Fuck, over."

"What the Staff Sergeant is saying is that we don't remember anything about nukes in the pre-op brief."

"It wasn't in there." Ramirez answered, "It was added after you went out into the field. I'm afraid word didn't catch up in time."

Anderson handed out cold sodas to keep tempers down. "It will all work out in our favor. You get to come out early and I can prep you for deployment. A little bird told me about a mission that you are going to be tasked with. There will be a full briefing coming down; I wanted to give you a heads up."

"Are we going to get a juicy op in Hawaii, sir? I haven't been home in a while and wouldn't mind getting in some beach time."

"Not likely Felicia," Anderson laughed. "No it seems that a colony has come out of hiding. It apparently was owned by a corporation that folded leaving it ownerless."

"Wouldn't it have gone into receivership and been overseen by the ICC."

"Somehow it was missed in an asset review."

Tucker was incredulous, "How do you loose a fucking planet?" Keo scowled at him. "Sorry for the language sir." Anderson nodded acknowledgment. "So who owns it then?"

"The ownership is tried up right now." The Sergeant Major answered. "It has been in closed ICC arbitration for over a year between at least one corporation and the colonists who were left behind by the founding corp. They have now opened the doors and the ICC is sending a high official out there to wrap it up personally."

Keo cut in, "Your pardon Sergeant Major, but didn't the Commandant come out with a directive after the Archeron incident that USCMC forces will no longer be placed under the authority of the ICC?"

"Ma'am, are you referring to the Hadley's Hope incident or the quarantine operation when you threatened to shoot down the ICC shuttle?" Ramierez asked.

"Either one Sergeant-Major, either one."

"Your memory is correct Lieutenant," Anderson continued, "you will not be under the ICC authority; your mission is to protect the Americas' citizens and other non-combatants. You will however, make sure all parties follow the directives of the official."

"So it will be a civil affairs op? Why us then? It would make more sense to be sending a CAG unit or MPs. They are better trained for this than recon."

"It will be in part civil affairs but there is a larger issue here. It seems last month that there may have been a bio-weapons attack."

Keo's eyes opened wide, "May have?"

"It was reported by the local administrator but has not been confirmed. Apparently someone attempted to introduce an agent into the main colony's water supply. You need to find out what did happen. Your civilian attachments will be crucial. They need to determine what, if any, agent was used and was it deliberate or accidental. If deliberate, your marines are to track down and arrest the perpetrators."

"That's ugly sir. What's the political-military situation?"

"We know there are two or three corporations represented on planet, maybe more, and at least one has a mercenary security force. There is also a government elected by the colonists which has no formal recognition that I am aware of."

Keo leaned forward, looking at the Lieutenant Colonel and Sergeant-Major, "This is a joke right?"

Both Anderson and Ramierez shook their heads. She fell back in exasperation, "Two or three corporations, a mercenary force and an illegitimate civilian government; wow, did you buy me dinner or anything?"

They looked questioningly, "Well normally I expect to get a little something to warm me up before I get fucked."

Anderson started laughing and to look for something in his desk drawer. Ramierez kept a straight face while Tucker now scowled at his commander. Keo looked back and shrugged her shoulders, "I'm an officer, and I can curse when I want to." She said petulantly.

The Lieutenant Colonel found what he was looking for and tossed it on his desk, "Here Felicia, will this do?"

She picked up the plastic box; it was an Edible Ration, Field. The ERFs were uniformly reviled by all that ate them. "Meat Loaf and Gravy? Sir, you sure know how to treat a lady."

At that point the all four marines could contain themselves no longer and shared a hearty laugh. It was not the first, nor would it be the last, time they had been tasked with too large of a mission and given too few assets. "OK, Colonel," Keo pulled herself back under control, "what's in the debit column."

"Not enough I'm afraid. You will get another four bodies to bring you up to strength. Also your transport, _U.S.S. Davis, _will stay with you. She will provide medical technical and supply support"

"I don't know that ship, sir."

"You wouldn't. It is a refit of an old _Bigelow_-class destroyer to a multi-role transport. It has troop bays and lab facilities added; supposed to be fast as well so you won't waste time in the freezers much."

Tucker held up a finger to signal he had a question; Anderson waived for him to speak, "Colonel, who is overall command of this op?"

"This is the really good part. Lieutenant Keo is."

Keo cut in with a throaty, "Oh yes, baby, do me good."

"Lieutenant, you are incorrigible." Anderson couldn't help another grin. "I have full faith in you and your marines. Your reporting command and additional support will be the 21st Marine Assault Unit. I believe that is 2/6 is on the MAU right now; Major Neal, Lieutenant Colonel select, has the reins. Any other questions I probably can't answer right now?" After the two recon marines indicated no, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help you out before lift?"

"I told my people I would ask about libbo tonight."

"The Davis won't be ready for loading until 0600 on the 18th. How about if we use tonight to prep for lift and I give you all seventy-two hour pass starting tomorrow morning; assuming everything is set so the Support Battalion can put your gear in orbit tomorrow."

"I think I can sell that one sir, thank you."

"If there are no more questions, you are dismissed."

Shortly thereafter, Tucker and Keo were walking across the sand to the platoon's quarters. "Mojo, give me the straight scoop, what do you think?"

"I believe you had the right assessment in there. There is a big green weenie getting ready to fuck us hard."

"Part of the job Staff Sergeant."

"I know LT, 'You don't have to like it, you just have to do it'." He quoted an old warrior saying. "On the other hand, a few days in Palm Springs or Vegas makes up for a lot of weenie. Will you come with us?"

"No, I don't think so," she said thoughtfully. "There's a few things here on base I would like to do before leaving."

He looked down at hid commander, "So I can find you in Lieutenant Burczyk's area then?"

Keo's expression darkened, "I'm not sure what you are saying."

Tucker stopped and looked her in the face, "Felicia, we've been together for what, over a year now? And in at least half a dozen fights. Do you really think you have secrets I don't know about?"

Several seconds passed as she returned the look. "I would like to think so."

"You probably do, but this isn't one of them. Don't worry," he assured her, "it's nobody else's business but yours. I just want to know where to reach you if there is an emergency."

"I would say then that would be a place to send a message."

They began walking again. "I'll get commitments from our people so you will know where everyone will be. Maybe the Lieutenant Burczyk can get off base for a day or two also; you don't want to accidentally bump into anybody when you are off duty."

Keo seemed to be in a funk so Tucker gave her a friendly elbow, "Cheer up ma'am, it was actually Fang who caught on." She looked up, shocked; Tucker kept speaking, "I had to about twist his balls off to get a hint of it; that is one tight lipped bastard."

"How did you know he knew anything?"

"He was smiling"

Felicia snorted, "So who else is in on the Lieutenant Keouakuahu'ula's Personal Life Fan Club?"

"Spyder probably, the gunners are close. Maybe some others have found out; everyone will eventually."

She glared at her subordinate who just smiled, "We are recon after all."


	4. Interlude 1

**New Canaan**

**Murakumo**

**1850 28July2184**

A group of four men and a woman sat in the farthest corner of a coffee shop from other customers. To all appearances it was a group of friends sharing idle conversation over some coffee. Appearances are deceiving.

The woman, known by her companions to have a short temper, strained to keep her voice low. "Our situation is getting out of control."

"It is not out of control, Ruth," said Jacob, the one who led the group at the water treatment facility.

"You said there would be no mistakes."

Jacob turned to the one they called Saul, who had accompanied him on their mission. "Brother, did you see any mistakes made?"

"No, but Gideon…"

Jacob cut him off, "No, there were no mistakes. Brother Gideon pissed you off, excuse me, upset you but the mission went according to plan."

"Correct," Gideon chimed in. "If the damned cattle handlers followed their procedures, everything would have been fine."

"But they didn't Brother", Ruth snapped, "that was one of the problems in the plan, too many uncontrollable factors. Now we have a team of marines on the way."

"Which was allowed for, Sister, even expected."

"Not just marines, but _Recon_ marines; their elite special forces. That is not in the plan." She hissed over her cup, taking a quick sip. "And as if that wasn't bad enough but they are bringing with some kind of special scientific team. This whole operation is about to blow up in our faces. Have you considered we could be brought up on war crimes before a tribunal?"

The last man, known as Abraham was the also eldest and most respected, making hin their unofficial leader. He cleared his throat, drawing attention of all. "Brothers, Sister." He addressed them, "The operation has not gone exactly to plan so far it is true," he began, "but it is not yet time to panic." He looked to be sure he had the attention of all. Jacob and Gideon looked pleased, Ruth still defiant but listening; Saul was breaking into a nervous sweat at the mention of a tribunal. Abraham chose to direct his focus at the young troubled man. "The marines may be well trained but they are mere soldiers. They are used to doing what they are told. We can direct them and control them, they will see only what we want them to see."

"We can be sure of that, Elder Brother?"

"Yes. If needed, we will sacrifice a pawn to appease them, but the important pieces," he paused and looked around the table letting each know they were counted as important, "will be protected."

Ruth dared to question him. "And what about their scientists? What if they identify the agent used?"

"It will not help them. The virus did not originate here so will have no connection to any location on this planet. More importantly it will have no connection to us. If anything it will direct them away from this world which will help us in the long run."

"That would not please our benefactors, Elder Brother."

"We owe then nothing." He looked at his stubborn follower sternly. "They are using us as much or more than we are using them. They will say nothing about us for the same reason we will say nothing about them, but if the marines track them down through their investigation so be it. There will still be no proof to link back here"

"What are we to do about the serpents they supplied us?" asked Gideon.

The Saul and Ruth looked with an expression of horror; even Jacob had an uneasy expression. "You can't possibly be thinking of using them now, can you?" Ruth asked.

Abraham stared at Gideon, "I am not comfortable with that gambit at this juncture, Brother."

"No, of course not." He quickly replied. "But we need to keep them safe from discovery."

"They are a powerful factor," Abraham mused, "and one should not sacrifice a queen without bettering his position on the board. The piece might be needed later."

Ruth began to speak but he held up his hand to order a refill, which effectively silenced her. Once the server left he spoke again. "I am not saying we will use the serpents; I think we were not given enough information about them. The implication was that they could be very difficult, once loosed. On the other hand, I do not wish to destroy them. They could be useful even without being used."

"So what then, hide them?"

"I think exactly that is what we should do. We need them to be secure from prying eyes but also accessible."

Jacob put out an opinion. "I think it would be best if we could put them in a place that if they are discovered, others will take the blame for having them."

"Very good idea, can you arrange it Brother Jacob?"

Jacob looked at Gideon questioningly. "Yes," Gideon said, "I can go to New Stanleyville. That is out of the way. With one other to help I can take our 'packages' there and keep them safe."

"Do so then," Abraham ordered, "before the marines arrive. It would be useful if the person you take with is someone expendable, understand?" Gideon nodded. "Good, blend in and wait for instructions."

"I do not like this Elder Brother." Ruth said. "I would rather destroy them and go to ground. Let the marines look and leave, then present our case to the courts again. If this gets out of control we could loose everything."

"We have control of the board, Sister. They will be reacting to our moves."


End file.
